This California Restaurant Is A Secret Year Round Thanksgiving Dinner Locals Quietly Love

Tallyrand in Burbank feels like a discovery you’re almost protective of the moment you walk in. The old sign on West Olive glows softly in the evenings, and stepping through the door feels like entering a diner that’s been waiting for you for years.

I’ve watched regulars settle into their usual booths without a word, the server topping off their coffee before they even take off their coats. The roast turkey shows up every day, carved warm and comforting, tasting like the quieter side of a holiday meal.

The prices stay friendly, the portions stay steady, and the room carries an ease that makes you linger. If classic comfort is what you’re after, this is where you sink in and order with confidence.

The Daily Roast Turkey Plate

First thing you notice is the gentle steam rising off generous slices of turkey, pale and tender. The cranberry sauce looks like a jewel on the plate, and the stuffing is soft with a faint herb whisper. Gravy clings, not floods, and it smells like someone paid attention.

Tallyrand’s dining room still wears its 1959 lineage: booths, wood tones, and the hush of neighbors catching up. It’s the kind of vibe that makes time politely slow down.

I cut into the turkey and the knife slides. Each bite is clean, savory, and calm; it tastes like a promise kept. Order the muffin upgrade and save half for later.

Open-Faced Turkey Sandwich with Gravy

Here the food leads: thick-cut turkey layered on toasted bread, stuffing tucked underneath, and a gloss of gravy that means business without drowning flavor. Mashed potatoes sit beside like a patient friend. The cranberry keeps everything bright.

Tallyrand has been family-run since 1959, and that steadiness shows in how the sandwich arrives hot, tidy, and exactly as ordered. It’s served all day during operating hours, from morning to early afternoon.

Ask for coleslaw if you like a crisp counterpoint; it reins in the richness. I found the balance excellent, especially with a black coffee top-off before the lounge wakes up.

Cinnamon Roll French Toast (Thanksgiving Cousin)

Cinnamon haze hits first, like a bakery door opening. The edges are caramel-tinged and a little crisp, the middle plush, and the glaze melts into the grooves. It’s dessert acting like breakfast, and no one protests.

The room’s morning chatter is easy, with counter regulars trading jokes with servers. That atmosphere makes sweet things feel less guilty, more traditional, like a slice of pie on a holiday table.

I pair it with a side of turkey sausage to keep the theme. The contrast works: spiced sweetness against savory comfort. Ask for butter on the side, then add a small swipe so it doesn’t overwhelm.

Turkey Melt (Order Smart)

The ingredient spotlight is turkey, sliced and stacked with Swiss on grilled sourdough. There’s a mild tang from the bread, a soft pull from the cheese, and heat that wakes the flavors without drying them out.

Griddling is the technique doing the heavy lifting: quick, even, and patient enough to crisp the exterior while keeping the center moist. Ask for light to medium grill if you dislike dark spots.

Locals often add a cup of soup first; chicken noodle on chilly days tastes like a nod to grandma. I request a side of extra pickles, which brighten each bite and keep the pace lively.

Turkey Cobb Salad

An odd little sensory moment: the snap of chilled iceberg against warm turkey bits. Blue cheese gives a salty bloom, avocado softens the angles, and tomatoes keep it bright. It feels like a California answer to a holiday sandwich.

The vibe remains unhurried, with sunlight moving across the booths as lunch crowds filter in. There’s room to actually talk, which is its own luxury.

Order the dressing on the side to keep control. I fork through for balanced bites, turkey, egg, lettuce, crumble, and find it surprisingly hearty. If you need focus food without a nap afterward, this is the move.

House-Made Stuffing And Gravy Sidecar

Here’s a seasonal quirk: stuffing in July tastes even better because it feels slightly rebellious. Sage and onion rise first, butter follows, and the crumb is moist without collapsing. The gravy’s light sheen unites the plate.

Tallyrand has served roast turkey for decades, and the stuffing recipe reads like institutional memory, a comforting throughline since 1959. History you can taste, with portions that nod to the old Valley appetite.

I add this side to almost everything, even a burger once, and it worked better than expected. If you split it, ask for an extra spoon to avoid table fork duels.

Hot Turkey Bowl (Mashed, Veg, Cranberry)

Chef detail isn’t a headline here; it’s a crew who know exactly how guests like comfort assembled. The bowl layers mashed potatoes, vegetables, turkey, and gravy in careful strata, each level distinct yet cooperative.

The food lands warm, not scalding, so you can eat immediately. Turkey remains moist, the vegetables stay colorful, and the cranberry hits like a reset button between bites.

Logistics tip: arrive before noon on weekends to avoid the rush and score a booth near the windows. I’ve never waited long when I time it right, and coffee refills arrive without prompting.

Pumpkin Pie Slice (Year-Round Mood)

Start with the spice perfume: cinnamon and nutmeg float up before the fork even touches. The custard sits set, not stiff, and the crust keeps its flake. Whipped cream, if you choose it, behaves politely.

Tallyrand’s pie case rotates, but a pumpkin slice in spring feels like a small rebellion that fits the room’s easy confidence. It’s not fancy; it’s right.

My reaction is steady joy with a side of coffee. Ask for it warmed slightly if you like the spices livelier. The slice travels well, too, so consider an extra to-go for your future self.

Cranberry Sage Turkey Pot Pie

This golden, hand-crimped pot pie hides a slow-braised turkey filling brightened with tart cranberry and fresh sage. The crust shatters into buttery flakes, sinking into a velvety gravy that balances herbal warmth and subtle sweetness.

Diced carrots, pearl onions, and celery add tender bite, while a splash of white wine lifts the finish. Served piping hot in a cast-iron crock, it’s both rustic and refined.

Each spoonful recreates the soul of a Thanksgiving spread without feeling heavy. Locals order it with a side of crisp salad to cut the richness, then linger for that last, flaky corner.

Roasted Sweet Potato Hash With Turkey Confit

This skillet hash layers caramelized sweet potatoes with crispy-edged turkey confit, creating a savory-sweet symphony. Charred Brussels leaves and sautéed leeks introduce earthy depth, while shards of candied pecan provide crunch.

A drizzle of brown-butter maple jus ties everything together, perfumed with thyme. It’s crowned with a soft-poached egg that spills silk over the crackling edges. Bright pickled cranberries cut richness with a zesty pop.

Fans swear it’s the perfect brunch crossover, holiday flavors without the afternoon nap. Pair with a strong coffee or dry cider and watch the skillet disappear one golden forkful at a time.